Sometimes, I can still feel Rob’s hand sliding up my thigh. I shudder at the memory and push it out of my head. “I know what you mean.”
“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of her voice, an edge to it, that has me sitting up straighter. “It seems like it doesn’t bother you that much.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Kasumi pops the top on a can of seltzer. “Nothing… it’s just…” She sinks back down on the bed. “You didn’t used to put up with all the bullying. But lately, it seems like you’re okay going along with it. We’ve all kind of noticed.”
I toss my magazine on the bed next to me. “Who is ‘we’? The servers? Because I didn’t ask to be sent out on the floor with them, you know.”
“But you didn’t push back, either.”
I slide off the bed and pace across the room. “You know it’s not that easy to push back. All I’ve ever wanted to do is be a pastry chef. I need this job. If I lose this job, I could be blackballed by the whole industry.” I turn to her with my hands on my hips. “Xavier might be a dick, but he’s a dick with a lot of influence.”
Kasumi shakes her head. “That would never happen.”
It did happen! I want to scream. It did happen, and I lost everything! But I can’t. Because it didn’t happen in Kasumi’s reality, in my current reality. It happened in my Very Bad Year. The year I’m doing everything I possibly can to keep from repeating. “You have no idea what could happen.”
Kasumi sighs. “I don’t want to fight with you about this. You’re my best friend. I’m just worried. You don’t seem quite like you anymore.”
“I’m still me.” I drop my arms from their defensive position. “Maybe I’m just the me who’s grown up a little. The me who realized you can’t cause a scene every time you don’t like something. You have to pick your battles.”
Kasumi gazes across the room, her brows knit together. After a beat, she seems to shake it off, jumping to her feet.
“You know what? I’m sorry I brought it up.” She heads for my walk-in closet. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to wear to Sonya’s thirtieth birthday party. Her boyfriend rented out the entire rooftop deck at the Hotel Budapest. It’s going to be epic.”
Kasumi flings the closet door open and then reels backward. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I hurry to her side. “Is it a cockroach? I hate cockroaches.”
“No.” She looks at me, wide-eyed. “It’s half of Madison Avenue taking up residence in your closet.” She waves her hand at the heap of high-end shopping bags piled on the floor.
“Oh, yeah. That.” I haven’t exactly gotten around to putting away the clothes Alex bought me. When I came home the night he gave them to me, I chucked the bags in my closet and have been ignoring them ever since.
Kasumi is gaping at me. “Are you a Kardashian? Do you have a secret shopping addiction? What’s happening here?” She grabs a handful of bags and drags them out into the room.
“Alex bought them.” I clear my throat. “He, uh, he wanted me to have some nice things to wear to his work events.”
Kasumi’s mouth forms into a silent ohhhh. She surveys the high-end labels scattered all over my floor. “Well, that’s very… sweet.”
“Yeah, it is sweet, right?” Why do I sound like I’m trying to convince myself? “It’s just…” I trail off.
The truth is these clothes aren’t me. Other than a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress I pulled out for one of Alex’s after-work happy hours, I can’t really see myself wearing any of this stuff. The Louboutins may be gorgeous, but there is a very good chance I will fall over in them. And where am I going to carry a Prada bag? The Food Bazaar? Yoga class? Even to an event like Sonya’s birthday party, I’m much more comfortable in a dress from a Williamsburg boutique and a quirky pair of earrings I bought at the Brooklyn Flea.
“It’s just that you might have wanted to pick out your own clothes?” Kasumi fills in the blank.
“Well,” I say, trying for upbeat. “These are the latest styles.”
“You have your own style.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Alex used to like it.”
I feel a flush creep up my cheeks. Kasumi is only saying exactly what I was thinking a minute ago. But I find myself going on the defensive again. “All the Wall Street women dress like this, so Alex wants me to feel like I fit in when we hang out with them.”
Kasumi is giving me that look again. The one like she’s about to say something that I’m not going to like. Luckily, Gio chooses this moment to hop off the bed and delicately weave his way through the designer bags on my floor. He sniffs around, finally choosing Armani. The thick paper crinkles as he settles on top, tucking his front paws beneath him.
Kasumi holds up her phone and starts circling Gio, snapping photos. “This one is going on Instagram for sure.”
When the photo shoot is over, we gather the shopping bags and line them up neatly on the closet floor where I know I’ll probably go on ignoring them for a while.
“So,” Kasumi says, flipping through my clothes on the hangers. “What are you going to wear to Sonya’s party?” She pulls out my favorite pink slip dress and holds it up in front of her. “How about this one?”
Suddenly, I have a flashback to Kasumi standing in the exact same position with a sparkly gold minidress in her hands. Or maybe it’s actually a flash-forward, since technically that New Year’s Eve carnival party is seven months away. But either way, I’m reminded of what a good friend she’s been to me, and suddenly, my throat is burning. I throw my arms around her, hoping she doesn’t notice my eyes growing wet. “I love you, Kasumi,” I say against her hair.
“I love you, too, silly,” she says in return. “Now, let’s pick out which photo of Gio we’re going to post on Instagram. I have the perfect label for it.” She pulls back from our hug and gives me a wink. “I’ll call it ‘Haute Cat-ure.’”
Chapter 15
June
I’m arranging a tray of candied pear and walnut muffins in Higher Grounds’ display case when Jacob walks in. Hearing the bell on the door, Mrs. Kaminski turns in her chair to get a look at him, and then she shakes her head. “You again.”
Zoe smiles. “Be nice, Mrs. Kaminski.”
“It’s lovely to see you, Mrs. Kaminski.” Jacob’s Victorian-era manners apparently extend to grumpy old ladies, because he’s unfailingly polite to Mrs. Kaminski, even when she snipes at him.
“You only come in when that girl is here,” she accuses.
“Which girl?” Jacob gazes around the half-full café.
“Sadie the Cat Lady.” Mrs. Kaminski humphs. I’d think she’s jealous, except there’s nothing about me and Jacob to be jealous of.
Jacob’s cheeks turn a little pink, and he lifts his gaze to mine. I swear my insides begin to caramelize.
Nothing to be jealous of at all.
He clears his throat. “If I don’t come in on the day she bakes, everything will be gone.”